


Power of Words

by snezh09



Series: Under My Skin [3]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Emotional Baggage, Ian Gallagher Loves Mickey Milkovich, M/M, Mickey Milkovich Loves Ian Gallagher, Retrospective, Self-Reflection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:42:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22135750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snezh09/pseuds/snezh09
Summary: It is funny to the point of embarrassment (though he’s never embarrassed) how much pleasure he gets every time he gets to refer to Mickey as his boyfriend.A short drabble exploring how our favourite boys think about each other. I love exploring old Gallavich scenes so this is mostly based on different parts of S1-S7 . No plot, just retrospective thinking.It's part of "Under my skin" universe, but you don't need to read it to follow.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: Under My Skin [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1253954
Comments: 6
Kudos: 75





	Power of Words

**Author's Note:**

> I took a break from Gallavich, but am slowly getting back in the fandom :) This drabble has been in my head for a while and I finally put it on paper.

***

If there is one subject in school, Ian gravitates to, it is English. Arts, history, geography - he can get by with good effort. Science he needs to work at, sometimes really hard; and sometimes even with Lip’s tutoring, physics comes across as total gibberish. 

English is relatively easy. He’s not a bookworm, but he likes reading. And words... they have certain beauty, order. He likes to think that certain words have _meaning_. 

  
***

It is funny to the point of embarrassment (though he’s never embarrassed) how much pleasure he gets every time he gets to refer to Mickey as his boyfriend. 

_“Can you pack two more cinnamon buns for my boyfriend?”_

_“Oh, no, you go ahead, I’m just waiting for my boyfriend”_

_“Mick, that’s the new EMI trainee I told you about. Hey Gary, that’s my boyfriend, Mickey”_

Other people calling Mickey that... it does something to him. Sue picks up on this quickly and Lip isn’t far behind. Ian thinks that both take the piss out of him with how frequently they use the word.

_“Going home already? Boyfriend’s waiting?”_

_“Are you bringing the boyfriend to that college party I told you about?”_

Ian rolls his eyes, but he can’t help a little tag of excitement every time he hears it.

  
***

It’s not that they word _boyfriend_ holds any particular meaning to Ian. It’s not like it changes or defines their relationship. 

Mickey is... _Mickey_. His Mickey. They relationship, what they mean to each other is not something that he can easily describe to anyone. Life has proven long ago to him that it doesn’t matter what he calls him - boyfriend, ex-boyfriend, fucking Milkovich - Mickey’s deep under his skin.

But there is still something... something primal about being able to do it so openly, so clearly, so simply in front of other people.

Mickey, my _boyfriend_.

***

Growing up gay and closeted in the Southside, he’s not stupid enough to think he’s ever going to have it _easy_. There is no Hollywood style gay wedding in his future, no picket fence little house. He’s fine with it, not his style anyway.

But sometimes, watching Fiona and Lip with their always-changing parade of partners, he wishes for simplicity of their world. Where people have _boyfriends_ and _girlfriends_ , go on dates, kiss in the open, share their lives and interests, call each other in the middle of the night. 

***

He’s not sure when he starts thinking about Mickey as his boyfriend. He doesn’t even realise he does until, ironically, the moment the word is thrown into his face with venom in the middle of Kash and Grab, with annoyed customers lining up outside and Mickey looking wild and angry and almost deranged (with fear, he realises later; Mickey looked deranged because he was fucking petrified and not only for himself, but for Ian).

_“You think we are boyfriend and girlfriend here?”_

And Ian struggles to hold the tears at bay because... he kind of does. He thinks back to all these months they spent working together at the store, fucking in the back room, sharing smokes at the back porch, laughing and talking and…

And maybe they don’t hold hands, maybe they don’t kiss or go on dates or do any of the stuff that boyfriends do, but… He feels closer to Mickey than he’s ever felt to anyone in his entire life, he misses him when he doesn’t see him for even a day and he tells him things that he’s only ever told Lip. If that doesn’t count for anything, he doesn’t know what does…

 _“Aren’t we?”_ he wants to ask, but Mickey’s next words pull the earth form under his feet first.

_“You are nothing but a warm mouth to me”_

Words have meaning. And words can cut like fucking knives.

***

“I sort of have a boyfriend” He says hesitantly to Lloyd six months later and sees the surprise cloud the doctor’s face.

He’s never mentioned Mickey to him before. He hasn’t mentioned Mickey to anyone since the older boy went to juvie, not even Lip, not even Mandy.

He’s spent the last six months in constant state of forced nonchalance, trying to pretend Mickey doesn’t exist and stomping down on every tendril of feeling (anger, relief, shame, longing) that threatens to penetrate that wall.

He and Mickey are not anything to each other anymore; officially they’ve never been anything to each other, except secret fuck buddies. Mickey made it fucking clear before he left and fuck him if he things Ian will cry quietly in a corner about it ( _anger, anger, anger_ ).

But then Mickey didn’t kill Frank, Mickey choose to go to juvie instead; Mickey said he would be doing Ian a favour and fuck if it wasn’t true ( _relief, shame, relief, shame_ ).

But Mickey didn’t even try to reach out to him once; didn’t pass a message; didn’t ask Mandy about him ( _longing, longing, longing_ ).

They are nothing to each other, _nothing_. Except in Ian’s stupid little heart, it’s not true. There Mickey is his boyfriend.

“He’s been away for a while” He explains to Lloyd, who looks a bit disappointed “But he’s coming back soon”.

He doesn’t know if it’s a wishful thinking or stupid hope.

“I fucking missed you” Mickey says quietly, casually, squinting in hot May sun and Ian’s stupid little hear sings.

***

“You got a boyfriend? Back home, I mean” One of the guys he’s been fucking during basic training asks once. Ian thinks he should know his name, but he can’t remember it now. They fucked a couple of times already and it’s been good enough to scratch an itch that seems to be living under his skin permanently now.

“What’s it to you?” He asks back; ignores uneasy feeling in his gut. He doesn’t want to think about home.

The guy shrugs “Just wondering. You seem to be pretty chill about being found out. I thought you might be out and proud”.

Ian doesn’t give a shit about found out mostly because he doesn’t give shit about anything. What could these stupid assholes do to him? He’s slowly getting fed up with all the discipline around the place.

“I don’t have a fucking boyfriend” He shots back and feels a strange sense of satisfaction.

Fucking take it, Mickey…

Real boyfriends don’t marry Russian whores that carry their babies because their father forced them to; they don’t fuck you on their wedding day only to pretend that you still mean nothing. They don’t refuse to run away with you when you beg them, not when the alternative is not seeing you for four fucking years.

No, he definitely doesn’t have a boyfriend. Fucking take it, Mickey…

***

He’s getting a refill for coffee, when Brad slinks next to him with a shit eating grin on his face.

“So, you like them rough, non-verbal and bitchy” He motions towards Micky, who’s digging into eggs across the table, a sourly expression on his face.

Ian still can’t believe that Mickey’s here; can’t believe that last night happened. Now, in the bright morning light it seems impossible that Mickey kissed him out in the open last night in the middle of fucking gay club; that he came to him openly to a gay party, drunk ale, showed jealousy, slept next to him on a pull-out couch… Ian feels like he’s on top of the world.

He shrugs non-committal in response and Brad smiles.

“Whatever… You boyfriend’s hot”

Ian’s not sure that Mickey’s his boyfriend. But he wishes more than anything that he _was_. He wants last night and this morning. Not the club, not the fancy photographers’ parties or hipster breakfasts. He wants Mickey out and in the open with him. He’s not settling for anything less.

***

“Mickey’s your boyfriend?” Carl asks with surprising innocence and Ian’s glad that he’s in the middle of the pull-up because it forces a pause. Stops him from saying “yes” immediately.

“We hang out” he says instead, casually, like he doesn’t care either way ( _he cares so fucking much_ ).

***

“Tell your fucking _boyfriend_ to do Yevgeny’s laundry like he promised to!” Svetlana shouts across the room and Ian freezes.

It’s been maybe a month since he moved into Milkovich house; a couple of weeks since he dragged himself out of the bed and the world around stopped looking like different shades of grey. It’s bright and beautiful and Ian’s never been more happy in his fucking life.

He gets to wake up next to Mickey every morning and fuck him into their bed every night and sit next to him at dinner table and laugh their asses off at random things.

And now Svetlana is calling Mickey his boyfriend. Out loud. In the middle of Milkovich living room with Mandy and Iggy and fucking Keynyatta less than 10 feet away.

And yes, that’s exactly how Ian has been thinking of Mickey since forever. And yes, Mickey did come out in the middle of Alibi in front of everyone they know. But surely, he’s not going to be alright with…

“Ian, tell the fucking bitch that I’m too fucking trying to figure out how to put food into the fucking kid’s mouth! She can figure out dirty laundry herself” Mickey turns back to his task

Something warm spreads through Ian’s chest; it curls in his stomach and a stupid grin threatens to split his face.

“I’ll do the laundry” He tells Svetlana quietly.

His _boyfriend_ is busy.

***

“Think Mickey’s coming back?” Fiona whispers outside of his room. She probably thinks that he’s asleep, that she’s being quiet.

They all think they are being so fucking quiet and considerate around him that he wants to throw up. They treat him like fucking Monica.

“Fuck, no!” Lip’s whispering back and his dismissive tone makes Ian want to burrow into the covers to hide. He doesn’t even have energy to do that “Hell will freeze over before you can count on Milkovich”

“I don’t” Fiona’s voice is soft, doubtful “When we went to visit Ian, he gave his status as _boyfriend_. Can you believe it? I never thought I’d hear Micky Milkovich of all people say that”

The word steers something deep inside Ian, something warm and almost real; more real than what he felt in days.

“Yeah? Then where the hell is he?” Lip asks and stomps down the hall.

Desperately Ian presses speed dial again.

***

Words can loose meaning, he guesses, become less significant. After everything, _boyfriend_ loses its magical value; it doesn’t tag at his heart with longing, doesn’t make him lose his breath.

Ian has boyfriends. They hold his hand when they walk down the street, they pack him lunches, they invite him out to music clubs. They cheat, they lie, they put him down.

In the end, it’s just a word – what the hell does it even mean?

***

“I have a fucking boyfriend!” He shouts in Mickey’s face, like a protection, like a barrier ( _I don’t need you, I don’t want you, I can’t_ ). It sounds weak to his own ears.

“A boyfriend?” Mickey’s voice drips with something, disbelieving, sarcastic, mocking. Almost as back then in Kash and Grab, when he threw the words in Ian’s face. Except Mickey’s different now, not angry. He sounds tired, down beaten, almost resigned. Ian can’t meet his eyes ( _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry_ ).

“Then what are you doing here, huh?” Tired, but still challenging. Like he knows, knows there is not meaning behind the word. Ian risks a glance at his face.

Boyfriend doesn’t mean a fuck. Not when he’s faced with Mickey’s lips, his hands digging into his stomach. He buries his face in Mickey’s neck and all words in the world lose their meaning.

***

They’ve been back to Chicago for some time already and Ian’s getting better. It’s slow and he has set backs and it’s fucking infuriating at times, but he’s getting there, with Mickey’s at his side every step of the way.

There is a café near Dr. Fosters’ office where he and Mickey sometimes stop by. It’s quiet there in late morning hours and they serve good decaf. It’s good place to unwind on days when Ian’s not ready to be boxed in a car after a session.

“Latte, decaf” He tells the waitress, a plump always smiling woman, when she stops by the table.

“One latte, decaf, coming” She motions at Mickey who’s leaning back from the table, engrossed in his mobile phone and grumpily typing away (to Svetlana, Ian’s sure – only the Russian causes Mickey to frown in this particular way) “And your boyfriend?”

Ian freezes. Because…How does she even know? It’s not like he and Mickey even tough much in public let alone engage in PDA. They could be friends or colleagues or just acquaintances. And the thought that people can still tell, just by seeing the two of them together; that they see that Mickey is his boyfriend (again, finally, always) it makes his heart jump in his throat.

“My boyfriend’s having black coffee” He says slightly raspy. Under the table Mickey squeezes his knee in silent thanks.

Mickey is his _boyfriend_ and Ian knows exactly what the word means ( _love, trust, home_ ).

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this :)
> 
> For some reason I LOVE this scene in season 3 when Ian refuses Lloyd's gift because of Mickey. Mickey isn't even in the scene, but I think it shows so much about their relationships.


End file.
